


Taking Flight

by Edonohana



Category: Chronicles of Prydain - Lloyd Alexander
Genre: Gen, Magic Lessons, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 13:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13008762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/pseuds/Edonohana
Summary: Achren’s voice rose sharply. “Eilonwy! What did I just say?”Eilonwy hurriedly glanced down at the yellowed page. The letters seemed to twist and writhe under her gaze, like the worms she sometimes spotted in the courtyard after a storm. There was something unpleasant about them—the letters, not the worms. Well, the worms too, but that was hardly their fault. If Eilonwy didn’t have arms and legs, she’d have to writhe along too, and she'd hate it if people held it against her.





	Taking Flight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thawrecka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thawrecka/gifts).



Eilonwy, daughter of Angharad, daughter of Regat, princess of Llyr, stood in the secret heart of Spiral Castle, getting a magic lesson from the greatest enchantress in all of Prydain. An eerie witchlight glinted off Achren’s silver hair and the jewels set at her ears and throat as she bent over an ancient book of spells.

Eilonwy wished her aunt would finish up soon, so she could go do something more fun, like watching the birds outside her window. Or playing with her bauble. Or sweeping the floor. Or polishing her toenails. Or anything. 

_It’s strange how you can be lonely when there’s another person right there in the room with you, talking to you,_ she thought. _Though it’s really more like talking_ at _you. And it’s strange how you can be bored when the person is teaching you magic, which ought to be interesting. It’s like being a bird who's sick of the sky._

Achren’s voice rose sharply. “Eilonwy! What did I just say?”

Eilonwy hurriedly glanced down at the yellowed page. The letters seemed to twist and writhe under her gaze, like the worms she sometimes spotted in the courtyard after a storm. There was something unpleasant about them—the letters, not the worms. Well, the worms too, but that was hardly their fault. If she didn’t have arms and legs, she’d have to writhe along too, and she'd hate it if people held it against her.

“Eilonwy?” Achren’s tone had the dangerous edge that often heralded an ear-ringing slap.

“To be careful with the pronunciation,” Eilonwy hazarded. It certainly looked difficult.

Achren’s hand, which had been rising to the level of Eilonwy’s ears, dropped to her side. “Yes. Even a single mispronounced syllable will make the spell not work, or have unintended effects. Do you see that spider on the wall?”

Eilonwy nodded. In fact, for a large part of the lesson, she had been watching it busily weaving its web in a corner.

“Now listen carefully.” Achren began to recite the spell, which sounded just as unpleasant as it looked. As the final syllable hissed from her mouth, she pointed at the spider. A streak of white light leaped from her outstretched finger, and the spider fell to dust.

“Oh!” Eilonwy cried out. Then, seeing Achren’s watchful gaze upon her, she said no more.

 _Poor thing_ , she thought. _Minding its spider business, and it was killed just so Achren could do a demonstration. If I was a spider, I’d rather be eaten by a bird. At least I’d be giving someone a meal. Well, a snack, but snacks are nice. Though I suppose if I was a spider, I might not have a preference. Maybe it’s just people who care about what they died for._

Achren cleared her throat in a manner which distinctly suggested annoyance, though Eilonwy hadn’t even done anything annoying yet. “Do you remember the pronunciation?” 

“I think so,” Eilonwy said. “But I don’t see any more spiders. Oh, but wait, there’s a fly in the web.”

There was, but it wasn’t moving. She suspected that it was not only already dead, but already drained dry. 

_I hope it was juicy,_ she thought. _Everyone deserves a good last meal. Even the fly, I suppose. But maybe it had some nice rotten meat before it became dinner itself. Achren does sometimes leave dead spell ingredients out for a while._

Before Achren could notice that the fly was halfway to dust already and procure something fresher, Eilonwy began to recite the spell. Her memory was excellent when she managed to pay attention, and she could feel the power building within her. Like everything else about the spell, it wasn’t pleasant. She cried out the last syllable and pointed at the fly, glad to be over with it. Light flashed from her fingertip, and the fly crumbled into dust.

Achren reached out for Eilonwy with a bejeweled hand. The girl flinched. But Achren gave her hair a stroke, as if she was a well-behaved horse, and said, “Very good. Very good indeed. I had not expected you to master that spell on the first try. It’s a difficult one.”

Despite herself, Eilonwy was pleased by Achren’s approval. Her aunt _was_ a great enchantress, and she did not give out praise lightly. 

“I just listened to how you said it,” Eilonwy replied. “It was easy as falling off a log. Though I’ve never actually done that. The only logs in Spiral Castle are in the fireplace, and I’d hardly want to stand on those. Or fall, for that matter. I suppose unless I knew a spell to make myself fireproof. Do you know one?”

Achren, whose pleased expression had begun to harden into annoyance as Eilonwy chattered, patted her again at the last question. “I do, but I’ll save it for another time. Since you did so well and paid such good attention, how would you like to learn a spell that I think will be more to your liking than simply not burning up?”

Eilonwy looked up, interested. Achren had never offered to teach her something she’d _like_ before. “Oh, yes, please! Or wait, I know! Is it to fly?”

“No spell can give you flight,” replied the enchantress. “But this one can give you the next best thing. It’s a charm to compel birds to do your will. I’ve seen you watching them many a time. How would you like to have a hawk of your own, one that will never need to be caged or hooded, but will fly only at your command and always return to you?”

Eilonwy drew in her breath. The hawks were her favorites. She loved watching them wheel about the sky, gliding so gracefully, and then plummeting down upon their prey. “Oh, yes please! Thank you!”

Achren’s beautiful face warmed with the faintest of smiles. “Attend…”

 

The spell to command birds was a complex one, which required a week of lessons to perfect. But Eilonwy worked hard at it, eager for a hawk of her own to keep her company. She had little time to watch the birds outside her window, she was so busy studying even when she wasn’t being tutored by Achren. But now and then she glanced up from the scroll, and smiled to see the hawks soaring so high and free.

 _Soon,_ Eilonwy thought.

At last the day came that Achren told her she was ready. Eilonwy was filled with the most wonderful anticipation as they walked together into the courtyard. She looked up at the hawks circling above. It was hard to see individual details, but there was one that seemed to fly a little higher than the rest.

“Now,” said Achren. “Call your hawk!”

Eilonwy held out her left arm, which bore the leather gauntlet Achren had gotten for her, and extended her right up to sky. She cried out the words of the spell, and exulted when that highest-flying hawk— _her_ hawk, now—plunged down from the sky.

The hawk landed on her forearm with a hard thump. It seemed so much more real up close, real and heavy. Its talons gripped tight, and it twisted its head to stare at her. Something in its fierce yellow gaze made her uneasy, and his weight made the muscles of her arm burn.

“Come and perch on my shoulder,” she told it.

The hawk made a hop-and-lunge upward. 

“Ow!” exclaimed Eilonwy as its talons dug through her jacket. “No, get off!”

The hawk flew up and circled over her head. Smiling, Eilonwy extended her forearm. “Land here.”

The hawk screamed, its eyes wild, but obeyed.

“I could have leather patches sewn on the shoulders,” Achren suggested. 

“Yes, please.” For the first time since Eilonwy had come to Llyr, she felt fond of her aunt. “Thank you, Achren! This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

“Enjoy it,” said Achren. “Magic is not only dull studying, you know. Magic is power. Magic is joy. Magic is a tool to give you everything you could ever wish for. When you tire of your lessons, look on your hawk, and remember that practice is the path that leads to your heart's desire. The hawk is only the beginning.” 

She ruffled Eilonwy’s hair. The hawk screamed again, piercingly. 

“Be quiet,” said Eilonwy. The hawk fell silent.

A servant took her jacket and sewed leather shoulder patches on it. Delighted, she put it on and commanded the hawk to ride on her shoulder. Achren sent a man to instruct Eilonwy in the care and feeding of hawks. Another servant installed a perch in her room, and yet another brought her raw meat. Then they left her alone with her new pet.

The hawk stared at the meat she set out, but did not eat. 

“Don’t you like it?” Eilonwy asked. “It’s as good as what Achren and I eat. In fact it’s the same as what Achren and I eat. Only not cooked. I could have it cooked, if you wanted. But I’m sure hawks prefer it raw. After all, that's how you eat your mice. Would you rather have a mouse?”

The hawk was silent. 

“I wish the spell let me talk to you,” Eilonwy said with a sigh. “I mean, let you talk to me. Me talking to you is _exactly_ what it lets me do. Well, me ordering you…”

She broke off, feeling strangely uncomfortable. “I’ll get you a mouse.”

Getting a mouse was not as easy as promising to get one, but she eventually found a freshly-killed one in a trap in the pantry. She took it up to the hawk, but it refused that as well.

Eilonwy tried coaxing the hawk. She tried tying the mouse to a string and wiggling it to convince the hawk it was alive. But no matter what she did, the hawk sat motionless, wings folded, eyes furious.

She gave a sudden laugh. “Silly me. I forgot… Eat!”

The hawk ate. When she told it to drink, it drank. Then, at her command, it returned to her shoulder. 

She had spent such a long time learning how to care for it and trying to feed it that by the time the hawk had finished its meal, it was Eilonwy's time to eat as well. Daring, she sat down at the table with the hawk still on her shoulder. But Achren only gave her that same faint smile, and made no objection.

As Eilonwy readied herself for bed, she realized that in the entire day, she’d never let it fly. 

“You’ll fly tomorrow,” she promised. “This was just the first day. Don’t worry, I’ll let you fly all you want!”

The hawk screamed. Its wild cry was still ringing in her ears when she fell asleep.

The next morning, Eilonwy was as good as her word. Before she even got dressed, she opened the window and said, “Fly, but come back when I call.”

In a blur of brown feathers, the hawk was gone. Eilonwy leaned out the window, frowning. Achren had told her the spell linked her and the hawk, so it would obey her whether it could literally hear her or not. But she couldn’t even see it any more. 

“Come back,” she called.

A tiny brown speck arrowed toward her, growing bigger and bigger as it came. The hawk landed on the windowsill with a thump. It cocked its head and seemed to glare at her.

“I was just testing,” she assured it. “I’ll let you fly again now. I know you want to go…”

Her voice trailed off. A lump swelled in Eilonwy’s throat, and a flush of heat made her face burn. She had felt the quick clutch of guilt before, when she disobeyed Achren's orders or went behind her back, but she hadn't regretted those deeds for their own sake. She'd only been afraid of getting caught. When she looked at the hawk's fierce eyes and stilled wings, for the first time in her life Eilonwy tasted the bitterness of shame.

“I know you want to go,” she repeated softly. 

Eilonwy reached out, meaning to stroke its sleek feathers one last time. But she knew it only endured her touch because it was compelled, and so she drew back her hand.

“Never obey me again," she said. "Never obey anyone. Go free.”

The hawk gave a piercing shriek, making Eilonwy's ears ring like they'd been boxed, and shot out the window. Up and up it flew, never slowing or looking back, until it was lost against the sky.

When Eilonwy came down for dinner, her eyes only the tiniest bit red and swollen after many splashes of cold water, Achren looked not at her face, but at the empty spot on her shoulder. 

“Where is your hawk?” the enchantress asked.

“I sent it away,” Eilonwy admitted. Quickly, she said, “I do appreciate you giving it to me—I mean, you teaching me how to get it. It’s just that birds are so messy. And heavy. It made my shoulder ache, and there’s nothing worse than one shoulder aching but not the other. It feels so uneven, like having three hands. I suppose I could have gotten another hawk for my other shoulder, but then I’d have had twice the feathers tickling my ears. I like playing—well, not _playing_ , I’m far too old to play, but when I absolutely need to occupy my hands, my bauble is really much better than a bird. It doesn’t need to be fed, you know, and it doesn’t shed feathers. In fact—”

“Enough!” Achren cried. But rather than scolding Eilonwy for being ungrateful, as she’d expected, the enchantress said thoughtfully, “Living things _are_ a great deal of trouble. You are wiser than you know. ” 

And she spoke no more of it. 

That night Eilonwy stood at her window, listening to the hoots of unseen owls. Her bauble glowed with a gentle golden light. Moths fluttered in through the window and circled it. Eilonwy watched them fly until she could bear it no longer, and made the bauble wink out. By the colder light of the moon, she watched the moths fly out again.

Clouds fled across the sky, chased by a high wind. Unbidden, a memory came to her mind of the white-crested waves of Llyr. There was an entire world out there, so much bigger than Spiral Castle. But she was trapped there, with no one to set _her_ free.

“Even Spiral Castle is bigger than Spiral Castle,” Eilonwy murmured to herself. “All those underground passageways! And all those dark little tunnels Achren says don’t go anywhere. But why would there be a tunnel that doesn’t lead somewhere? It’s like throwing a dinner party and not sending any invitations. She probably just doesn’t want to squeeze in and get her gems muddy."

"Or," she added thoughtfully, "She doesn't know where they go.”

With that, she made her decision. She might not have the sky or sea, but she’d have the earth. Tonight, she’d find out where those tunnels went.

Cradling the bauble to her chest, Eilonwy tiptoed out the door.


End file.
